


prasinus atque ruber

by leov66



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Psychic Abilities, References to 1984 - George Orwell, Soulmates, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 10:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12430488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: He lost green first. It’s always been Grantaire’s favourite colour and he lets it go with almost relief.He’ll lose red last. It’s always been his own. The rage, the blood, the fight that seems to go on for all his life. He’ll let that one go with bitterness.#jamesturns20, promptsoulmateswith a tragic twist. enjolras-centric.





	prasinus atque ruber

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr's [@euphra-sie](https://euphra-sie.tumblr.com)

Getting into another fist fight that day, Enjolras is pretty sure they’re gonna find him soon. The guy is pretty into it, though, and he can feel the broken rib or two already. It’s a good pain, and he smiles to himself like the psycho he is. 

 

The thrill of the fights is what keeps him going, fuelling the fire inside his veins that he’s never asked for. Emotions - his, his opponent’s, doesn’t matter, flow right through him. Rage, satisfaction, a bit of fear, he can feel them all and in-between punches and kicks, he throws that at the guy as well, mixing them up and adding in some more of that paralyzing dread just for the sake of it, just so he can see how powerful he really can be. 

 

Grantaire hated when he did that. Hated the self-assured smirk that was meant to say _I know what I can do_ but never quite did its job.

 

That doesn’t matter anymore, he reminds himself and keeps going like he always does, pushing his opponent on the ground. The hood comes off; it’s barely a kid, not even eighteen if he had to guess. The determined expression almost reminds Enjolras of someone he used to know but doesn’t remember anymore.

 

With as much finesse as he can master, he adds in just a bit more fear and turns away, wiping the remaining blood off his face with the sleeve of a hoodie that’s the only reminder of what he used to have. 

 

The blood’s bright red turns into gray more and more with every hour. He clings to the shade, the first one he saw and the last he’ll see.

 

He lost green first. It’s always been Grantaire’s favourite colour and he lets it go with almost relief. 

 

He’ll lose red last. It’s always been his own. The rage, the blood, the fight that seems to go on for all his life. He’ll let that one go with bitterness.

 

Without them, he managed. Living a life like anybody else would, planned and thought-out, even if it meant not feeling anything at all. Never questioning anything, accepting of the fate of the grey world. He felt power, though, burning his fingertips, yearning to finally be used, waiting for him to realize that he’s not meant for that peace and silence.

 

Then his life burst into colour. He found himself wide open for a stranger, a man he barely caught a glimpse of. His world stopped turning for a second, only to pick up its pace and start spinning twice as fast. He and Grantaire met as often as they could, slowly but surely getting to know each other until it felt like the other has always been there. They kissed under a sky of blue and made love in-between shades of red. That was when he could truly feel it, the ability to pull at that raw emotion practically flowing out of Grantaire. He could turn it into hate just like this, without breaking a sweat, in between touches. Those thoughts terrified him the most, the fact he could ruin everything just because he could, it all made him question everything they had. 

 

Grantaire knew, of course he did, and held his shaky hands with kindness so powerful that it could never be taken away.

 

“This is real, _we_ are real,” he’d whisper to Enjolras and the universe would try to fix itself, if only for a few seconds.

 

Now, he’s left without them. Anger, righteus fury, _hatred,_ all at the same time and more powerful than ever, and the world tries to go on. They must’ve known, somehow, that they’d found each other, he learns one evening, still thinking about the shade of purple in which the sky had painted itself.

 

Without a warning, Grantaire is gone. Nothing’s left of him in the apartment they’ve started to share a few weeks before, nothing remains neither in the closet nor in Enjolras’ life but that awful, green hoodie. 

 

He only knows it’s green because he remembers, and that’s now he knows there will be no happy end to their story. 

 

Knowing all too well there’s no getting back to how he was, he _fights._ In the alleyways, he feels invincible, alive, and it makes him forget the colours that turn into grey one by one. 

 

He can hear footsteps somewhere behind him. There’s a breath on his neck now.

 

_“You go with us.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos COMMENTS AND KUDOS COMMENTS AND KUDOS COMMENTS AND
> 
>  
> 
> title means green and red in latin


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